Forbidden
by Whymsical
Summary: Arthur is trying to escape his past, but a certain Frenchman is trying to convince him that who he is does not matter. FrUK fluff/angst. Rated T for language.


**A/N**: Hey there! So this is a Romeo & Juliet-type story, with the whole forbidden love thing. RP-ed out with my awesome RP partner as Francis, and me as Arthur. Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur glanced around the small square and readjusted his hood around his head. Even though this was a small border town, there was always the chance that someone would recognize him as the Bastard Prince of England. Being the youngest of the Royal Family though, not to mention a bastard, gave him some freedom which he used to travel the land, away from the suffocatingly cold atmosphere of his father's castle. But his escapades were more escapes, and either his father or his brothers always came looking for him in the end.

As he was glancing around, he took his eyes off the path ahead of him and consequently ran into someone. Being smaller, he was knocked to the ground. He quickly scrambled up and fixed his hood yet again- the blasted thing had fallen off his head when he fell.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going..." he quickly said to the other person

"Ai-" There was a surprised gasp, and the person standing in front of Arthur looked down at himself, as if checking to see if he was all right. "_Mon Dieu_, _non_, I'm quite all right, are you?"

"Y-Yes, I'm fine, I do apol- am sorry." Arthur's eyes had widened when he recognized the French accent, so now he tried to adopt an accent that a commoner from England might speak in- meaning no flourishing words. He backed away from the other man a bit.

Francis frowned slightly, lacing his fingers together behind his back. He leaned down, as if trying to peer under Arthur's hood. "My, are you from around here?"

Arthur tilted his chin down, so the only thing the other man would be able to see were his eyes, if anything. "No, another town."

"Well, you mustn't hide your face from me."

"I've no reason to show it to you." Arthur backed away some more. "I have to go."

"Where?"

"I...why do you want to know?"

Francis tilted his head a bit. "Do you need money?"

Arthur's head jerked up. "No I do not. Do I look like a beggar to you?"

Francis blinked in surprise when Arthur looked up so quick, but he produced a grin. "_Non_, I wouldn't know. But you have beautiful eyes."

Arthur coughed in surprise and embarrassment. "I- err...thank you." he sputtered. "You're...not too bad...yourself."

Francis was taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled again, standing straight and bowing gently to him. "_Merci_. Do you still need to leave so quickly?"

Arthur glanced around and relaxed when he saw no guards. "...I think I could spare a few minutes."

Francis laughed. "Well, what brought you to this town ahhh...?"

"I'm Arthur. And you are?"

"Francis Bonnefoy."

Ahh. So his suspicions were confirmed. Arthur immediately bowed. "I apologize for knocking into you once more, Your Highness."

Francis immediately shook his head. "_Non_, Arthur, please don't." He offered a small smile. "No harm done."

"Please don't what?" Arthur tilted his head up to look at him still in the bowing position.

"Bow, _Mon Dieu_, you may stand."

Arthur straightened up. "Sorry." He mentally patted himself on the back- his acting skills seemed to be in fine order, and Francis didn't seem to suspect anything.

Francis shook his head with a smile. "So, which town are you from, Arthur?"

"Uhh..." Arthur froze for a second. "It's small, near the capital. Doesn't really have a name..."

"Ahh..." Francis nodded. "So why are you here, then?"

"Just...to get away." Arthur said softly. "What about you, Your Highness? And why are you talking with a nobody like me?" he asked with a small smile.

"Don't ever call yourself a nobody, Arthur." Francis offered a smile. "I'm talking to you because you are interesting, _et_ I want to."

"Won't change the fact that I am." Arthur muttered. He frowned slightly. This Prince was nothing like his father had said the French would be like...

"_Non_, Arthur, don't say that, it isn't true."

"You don't know me." Arthur turned away from him suddenly. "I really have to go now. Goodbye, Your Highness."

Francis opened his mouth to say something, but ended up not, and nodded. "Of course. Goodbye, Arthur." He smiled and waved once, lightly, before stepping back.

Arthur bid him goodbye with a surprising amount of regret and left. He wandered around the small town for a few hours, looking into this or that shop, until night fell. He then checked into a small but cozy inn for the night.

The next morning he went to a bookstore he had found interesting the day before and purchased a book, which he took with him to another, smaller square. He settled down in the corner on a bench under an old tree and read. His hood was down and the breeze played freely with his blond hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"Mmm, how's the book, Arthur?"

Arthur let out a short shriek and almost fell over, just managing to catch himself in time. "Bloody hell, don't fucking- ahh, I'm sorry Your Highness, you scared me." He carefully closed the book.

Francis smiled, hands behind his back again as he rocked on his heels. "I do apologize for scaring you."

"I tend to...zone out a bit when I read..." Arthur laughed nervously, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Francis smiled broader. "No problem. But Arthur, I've never heard of a small town outside the capital with readers."

Arthur froze. "Well maybe not in France." he said, recovering almost instantly.

"Ah, so you're not from France?"

"No. I'm from England..." Arthur's voice had gotten quieter with every word and now he tensed, ready to leave if Francis didn't react well. There were some people in France who really didn't like England, and vice versa.

"Really?" Francis's eyes widened. "_Non_, no way!" He plopped down next to him. "Wow- tell me about it!"

"Err...wot?"

"Tell me about it! Where do you like- do they all have your funny accents and big eyebrows?"

"Excuse me? These eyebrows are the mark of-" Arthur abruptly cut off. They were the mark of the Kirkland- the Royal- family. "They do not! And there are different versions of the accent, depending on which part of England you're from- plus we have a few territories under our rule, and there are different accents there too."

"Wow, really? Can you speak them?"

"Yes, but I prefer not to."

"...Why?" Francis tilted his head gently, in genuine confusion.

"...Let's just say I haven't had good relations with people of those accents."

"Ahhh...all right...well what's it like?"

"What's what like? And what is this, a bloody interrogation?"

Francis frowned softly. "Oh, I'm sorry..." He sank down a bit. "Didn't mean to make it sound like that- what's bloody mean?"

Arthur chuckled. "It's a curse word that we use." He reached out to pat Francis's shoulder, but then thought it wouldn't be proper for a 'commoner' to touch a prince so he retracted his hand.

Francis blinked. "What was that?"

Arthur shrugged. "Isn't it against the law for me to touch you or something?"

Francis shrugged as well. "I don't care. What were you going to do?"

"Just...pat you. I dunno, you looked down." Arthur huffed and turned to face away from him.

"Hey, what was that? _Mon Dieu_, are all English people so weird?"

"No." Arthur looked down at himself when his stomach growled. He glanced at a nearby clock and stood up, stretching. "It was nice seeing you again, Your Highness."

Francis groaned. "Oh come on, Arthur, you didn't even tell me anything!"

"Well it's lunchtime, and I have to go. Plus I told you plenty! If you want to know more, then just look it up or something!"

"I _can't_!"

"Why not?"

"Well...for the same reason you'd be executed for if anyone was to find out where you're from."

Arthur paled. "What? This is a border city. They- They can't do that here."

Francis shook his head quickly. "They won't! But...they would."

Arthur frowned. "Who would?" He looked around frantically, tensing up again.

"Arthur, please calm down."

"Then please explain to me what you mean." Arthur pulled his hood up and hid the book in the folds of his cloak. He was still on the lookout for any guards. His father didn't like it when he went out to different towns and if he was caught, it was never pretty. He'd learned to avoid that situation well enough, but they could always catch him by surprise.

"Well, I just...I wouldn't care who you are."

Arthur scoffed. "Do your research on the English Royal Family. Then we'll talk." He gave Francis a small, sad smile and walked away.

Francis watched him leave in confusion, wishing he could have learned a bit more, and not only about Arthur's country.

And sure enough, he did what Arthur had said, taking the evening to learn. And when he found out, he was more than surprised. But moreso, he was curious. He tried learning as much as he could for the rest of the night, staying up so late that the next day he woke at noon.

But he was up in seconds, trying to get out to town as fast as he could to hopefully find Arthur.

The Englishman was in the same spot as yesterday, still reading that book. He was biting his lip nervously- a part of him hoped Francis had taken his advice, and another prayed he hadn't.

"_Arthur_?!" Francis fell to his knees next to him. "Kirkland?!" he whispered.

Arthur froze. He slowly closed the book, his hands shaking. "Yes?" he asked hoarsely.

"_Mon Dieu_- y-you!"

"Yes, me. Go on, get the bloody guards."

"_Non, non_, why would I- why would I want that?!"

"Why wouldn't you?" Arthur looked at him.

"What, have you killed? Of course not!"

Arthur looked genuinely puzzled. "Why not?"

"Arthur! Because you wouldn't deserve it! _Et_ your harmless."

"What's more deserving for a mistake?" Arthur muttered, and then cleared his throat. "You should probably get off the ground." He moved over so Francis would have plenty of room on the bench.

Francis huffed and got up to sit next to him, still turned to him. "Are you _stupide_?"

"Of course not!"

"Are you _sure_?"

Arthur scowled. "Why would I be?" he hissed.

"Because you're_ here et_ talking to _me_? Wouldn't you want to...ah, I don't know, hurt me?!"

"Well I don't know, I _did_ run into you two days ago. But I'd never hurt you..."

"Why?"

"I don't just go around hurting people! My brothers and father maybe, but not me. And besides, you were...nice...to me."

"...But I'm French. _Et_ the Prince."

"You were different than everything I was told about you and your people... I liked that, I suppose..." Arthur was still tense though, ready to slip away if anything bad happened.

"...What were you told?"

"That you were all stuck up and snobby and didn't care, and that you were weak. And that you wouldn't hesitate to kill me or anyone else from England if you saw me. But then again, it was my father who told me..." Arthur trailed off awkwardly.

Francis frowned and huffed through his nose. "_Non_, we...!" He fell silent before nodding. "Why are you here?"

"To get away from everything." Arthur shrugged slightly. "To try and feel normal."

"Ah..." Francis nodded softly again. "I know what you mean." He hesitated a moment before standing.

"W-Where are you going?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"You're not!" On impulse, Arthur reached forward and grabbed hold of his wrist to keep him from going anywhere.

Francis froze in surprise, glancing back at Arthur's hand with wide eyes, mainly out of fear. He hadn't been expecting that but tried to relax, reminding himself that Arthur wouldn't do a thing. "...Oh...?"

Arthur saw the fear and immediately let go, gritting his teeth to stop the sadness and regret showing on his face. "Yes... If you want to go, however, then I won't stop you."

"_Non, non_, I'm sorry, ah..." Francis glanced around. "...I just don't want you to get caught..."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "...Let's go somewhere more private, then?" he eventually suggested.

Francis nodded and offered his hand to him.

Arthur stared at it for a moment before taking hold of it with a small, hopeful smile.

Francis smiled back and gently tugged on him to get him to start moving. He pulled him along the side streets of the town for a while before stopping behind a large building. There was a gate there, which he carefully opened with a push of his foot. Behind it were stairs, heading out straight down and into a vast ravine with a lush forest in it. There was another set of stairs on the other side of the ravine, and there were a couple more houses there.

The Frenchman led him all the way down before turning and walking along a dried-out river for a few feet. "There."

Arthur looked around the place in awe, his green eyes shining. "It's so peaceful here..."

Francis smiled and turned swiftly on his heel, almost in a spin, to look at him. "You don't have any weapons on you, do you?"

"I have a knife, but don't worry, I won't stab you."

"...Could you put it on the side then? _S'il vous plaît._"

Arthur unsheathed his blade and tossed it aside- it landed, quivering, buried in the trunk of a nearby tree.

Francis blinked at how nonchalantly Arthur did that. "...Sorry."

"For what?"

"Asking you to do that, I just...I can't trust people so easily, anymore."

Arthur tilted his head. "Why? What happened?"

"Ahh..." Francis swallowed and hesitated for a moment, looking up a bit into the air and playing with a piece of his shirt. "This man from your land tried to kill me once, _et_...I trusted him too fast."

"Do you know who it was?" Arthur stepped closer to him.

"Well, he looked like you, a bit, maybe...he had red hair?"

"Alastair." Arthur growled out, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

Francis froze, chills going through his body. "...You know him?"

"He's my older brother." Arthur spat out. "A right twat and utter arsehole."

Francis stared at him in shock. "...Really?" he squeaked after a moment.

"Yes. He's tried to kill me a few times as well."

"_Quoi_?!"

Arthur shrugged. "No one likes a bastard brother."

Francis frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"I'm used to it." Arthur smiled tightly.

"That's not a good thing, _cher_."

Arthur frowned slightly. "_Cher_?" he asked, trying out the unfamiliar word.

"Dear." Francis smiled.

"O-Oh. Why would you call me that?" Arthur frowned. The English form 'love' was only for people someone was really close to, or that they liked.

"Mmm, why not?"

"Isn't that for lovers though? Or children?"

Francis chuckled. "_Non_, it is for whomever I like!"

"Aha."

All of a sudden, Arthur lunged forward, knocking Francis to the ground on the other side of the riverbed. They landed under a small ledge, with Arthur straddling Francis and pressing his hands against the Frenchman's mouth. His eyes were focused on the top of the ravine, where a guard had appeared and was peering down. They were unnoticeable now, but earlier they had been in plain sight.

Francis yelped when he hit the ground- the sound soft because of Arthur's hands already being on his mouth. His immediate reaction was to squirm under him, trying to pry his hands off, but after a moment of fighting he realized Arthur wasn't focused on him and let his efforts weaken. With wide eyes, he glanced to the other side of the riverbed where Arthur's knife lay, breathing hard.

After what seemed like ages- but in fact it was a few minutes- the guard left. Arthur waited another few two minutes, and then slowly got off him. "I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't want to be seen..."

Francis edged away a bit, taking a deep breath. "W-Warn me, next time."

Arthur looked at him sadly, the lack of trust coming off the Frenchman being blatantly obvious. Then again, why should Francis trust him? "If there's time." he replied sharply.

Francis nodded softly. "All right, _cher_. Was it a guard?"

"Yes."

Francis nodded again and sat up, dusting himself off. "All right." He took a breath before laughing softly. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's the instinctive reaction, I suppose." Arthur shrugged. He itched to play with his knife, give his hands something to do, but that would only scare Francis more. So instead he intertwined his fingers and played with them.

Francis sighed. "Not like I could have done anything about it." He patted the grass next to him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow before sitting down. "So."

"You never answered!"

"Answered what?"

"What's your country like?"

"You're still going on about that? Didn't you learn anything when you were researching my family?"

"I want to hear from you!"

"Well, all right." Arthur leaned back until he was lying down. "It rains often, so when we see the clear blue sky people are really happy. Our navy is one of the largest of the world- do you know when I was younger I wanted to be a pirate captain?" He laughed softly. "Ridiculous. But it would make an amazing story. And then..." For the next few minutes, Arthur described what life was like in England.

"Wow...but a pirate captain, really?"

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, can you imagine that? I had so many dreams when I was younger..."

"Like what else?"

"I wanted to be King. To actually be loved." Arthur bit his lip and changed the theme. "My greatest dream was to ride a unicorn into battle one day." He blushed softly at that.

"W-" Francis smiled softly. "A unicorn?"

"I read a lot of fairy tales as a child." Arthur closed his eyes and stretched leisurely, his body happily lapping up the dappled sunlight shining through the trees.

"Mmm? And what about being King?"

"What about it?"

"What did you mean, to be loved?"

"Exactly that. Tell me about yourself now."

"_Non_, but why? You're a really good person, I bet you're really loved."

Arthur opened an eye. "Every person in my family- except my mother, who is dead- has tried to kill me at least once." He sighed. "Tell me about yourself." he repeated.

"B-" Francis fell silent for a moment. "Nothing to say, really."

"There has to be something." Arthur's eye slid shut once more. "Your childhood. Tell me about that."

Francis smiled softly. "I like it the most of everything. That's when I was really happy. Mmmm, I had this friend named Jean. She was beautiful..._et_ _mama_, she was still alive too. She was strong, I always looked up to her."

"What happened?"

"To?"

"Never mind." Arthur's stomach growled, but he ignored it. "Is it sunny in France?"

Francis nodded with a smile. "Always, it's beautiful!"

Arthur nodded. "It sounds so."

"Are you hungry?"

"Slightly." Arthur stood up. "I should...ahh...go." He walked over to the tree and plucked his knife out, sheathing it.

Francis stood up as well. "Already?"

"Yes, to go eat. Unless you'd like to join me?"

"Where are you going?" Francis tilted his head.

"I dunno yet. Preferably somewhere cheap." Arthur shrugged.

Francis laughed and walked over. "Come on, we'll go somewhere for free."

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "Where?"

"My home." Francis took Arthur's hand and gently pulled him forward.

"Y-Your home?" Surprised, Arthur let out no effort to oppose him and allowed Francis to lead him. The French Prince really trusted him enough to allow Arthur into his home?

Francis nodded and smiled when he glanced back at him. "_Oui_!"

Arthur quickened his step so they were walking side by side, and he gripped Francis's hand in return.

Francis glanced down at their joined hands and gently squeezed. "I hope you know you are loved, Arthur." he whispered.

Arthur froze, his breath catching in his throat. "W-What?" he asked hoarsely.

Francis pulled him along gently and smiled softly back at him again. "Exactly that, Arthur."

Arthur just blinked, oblivious to the world from shock as he was pulled along.

The Frenchman kept tugging him along until they got to a small home. He led Arthur in before letting go to close the door. "Arthur?"

"I- Y-Yes?" Arthur shook his head quickly to get back into the present. His hand tingled where Francis's had held it, and he missed the warmth.

"Are you all right?" Francis smiled, looking him up and down.

"If what you said is true...then yes." Francis's smile really was beautiful, radiating warmth and happiness. Arthur tried to match it with one of his own, but he knew he came nowhere close.

Francis smiled a bit more. "_Mon Dieu_, you need to smile more!"

Arthur's smile broadened as well and he averted his eyes, suddenly shy for some reason. "Err, food?"

"Right. What would you like?"

"Anything would be fine."

Francis huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "Come on, _sourcils_!"

"...Wot?" Arthur blinked.

"What do you want?"

"Food?"

"Oi, come on!"

"Surprise me."

Francis groaned. "No food unless you give me specifics."

"What's your favourite food?"

"_Quoi_?"

"What do you like to eat? A French dish."

Francis shrugged. "_Crêpes._"

"Then I would like _crêpes_."

Francis blinked, before chuckling. "Fine then, Arthur. Have you ever had any?"

Arthur shook his head.

Francis nodded. "Make yourself comfortable, then."

Arthur glanced around the house. It was simply furnished, but still bright and cheerful and pretty. Now this felt like home... But it wasn't his. He settled on the very edge of the sofa, not wanting to soil it with his dirty clothes.

Francis was gone for about twenty minutes, before returning into the room with Arthur to laugh. "Do you want to fall off?"

Arthur scowled. "I don't want to ruin your furniture." He gestured to the mud and dirt on his clothing.

Francis waved a hand. "I only come here once in a while anyways."

"But still." Arthur crossed his arms.

Francis shook his head, offering a hand. "Come along."

Arthur immediately took it, automatically lacing their fingers together. "Where?"

"Kitchen." Francis pulled him to the table in the kitchen, waving at him to sit down. "Do you need to leave today?"

"No. I try to stay out as long as possible before they find me." Arthur sat on the edge of a chair.

"I'm sorry...if you want, you can stay here."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Really? I'd hate to intrude..."

Francis smiled and nodded. "No, of course you can."

Arthur smiled gratefully. He stood up and went over to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I believe this is a custom of yours..." he said as he retreated back to his seat.

Francis blinked back at him in surprise, before smiling gently. "..._Oui_, it is..." he muttered, looking back to get the _crêpes_ onto the plates.

Arthur bit his lip. "Is there any way I would be able to wash myself later?"

"Hmm? _Oui_, of course. But eat first." He put the plate down in front of Arthur and then took a seat across from him.

Arthur looked at the food before taking a tentative bite. "...This is amazing!" He ate the rest quickly, and when he was done he leaned back with a contented sigh. "Thank you."

Francis nodded. "When was the last time you ate?!"

"Last night. I'm not _that_ broke, you know."

"Still, _Mon Dieu_, you need to eat more."

Arthur glanced at himself. "I'm fine."

"_Non_." Francis slid his own plate over. "Take it." Just as he said it, it started pouring outside.

"Francis, really." Arthur pushed it back, casting a dirty glare at the rain. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Take it, _s'il vous plaît_, I don't want it anyways."

Arthur hesitated, but then slid it back over to himself and quickly cleaned out the plate. "It was very good, thank you."

Francis nodded. "_Merci_."

"What do we do now? It's raining outside."

"Well, you wanted to take a shower?"

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind."

Francis nodded and stood. "The washroom is behind that wall, feel free to use the towels in it."

"Thank you." Arthur gritted his teeth slightly- he was asking so much of Francis, and that put him on edge. He had nothing to repay the Frenchman with at the moment, the feeling leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

He stood and went over to the washroom, stripping his clothes once he entered. He washed those first and set them out to dry before cleaning himself under the blissfully warm water. He lightly traced the old ragged scar curving down his ribs before stepping out from under the water. His shirt was still drying, so he merely put on his undergarments and pants before going back to the kitchen.

Francis had sat down by the table, glancing up from his book when Arthur entered, before frowning gently. "Is that...?"

"What? Arthur glanced down in confusion. "My shirt is drying..."

"_Non_, the s...ah, nothing, excuse me." Francis offered a smile. "Come sit, then?"

"The scar?" Arthur guessed. He pointed to it as he approached. "Alastair." He moved his hand to hover over a small round scar by his belly button- a stab wound. "Alastair." He turned and pointed to a similar mark high on his back. "Liam." Then he pointed out a thin silvery line going down his chest, close to his heart. "My father." Finally, his hand hovered over his smooth, unmarked throat. "Owen." He shrugged and sat down.

"Owen? There was nothing there, was there?"

"Poison."

Francis's eyes widened. "Then how did you...?"

"I only drank a small sip when I noticed the traces of it. The royal physician was able to save me, much to the displeasure of everyone else."

Francis frowned softly. "_Mon Dieu_, why are they trying to do that?!"

"I'm a mistake. They are trying to erase me."

"Why? No you aren't!"

"I am. My father had an affair with a peasant woman. I am the result of that affair. I'm not called the Bastard Prince for nothing, you know."

Francis sighed, reaching out to take Arthur's hand and gently kiss it. "_Non_, you aren't. Don't ever listen to them."

Arthur's fingers curled lightly around Francis's. "A bit late for that, love..." he sighed, not noticing the pet name slipping out.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say that. Just don't listen to them, Arthur, it's not true."

Arthur's temper flared. "Oh, you're one to talk. You've led a privileged, happy life! What would you know about something like that?!" He ripped his hand from Francis's and turned away from the Frenchman, shoulders shaking. "It's hard to just not listen to something that's been shoved down your throat your whole life."

Francis winced in surprise, looking at Arthur's back for a moment. "..." He sighed softly. "That's not what I meant, Arthur-"

"Then _what_ did you mean, pray tell?" Arthur snapped. His whole upper body shook with dry, noiseless sobs. His teeth were gritted harshly in order to make sure no tears came. He couldn't cry. Not now. Not in front of Francis.

Francis sighed softly, staying silent for a moment. "They don't want me on the throne either. _Et_ _mon papa_ told me he wished that- your brother, was it? That he'd killed me. Everyone thinks I'm too fragile. I'm not saying I've got it worse or anything, _et_ especially that it's easy to just not listen...just try..." He tried to smile at him, if Arthur was to turn. "It's a lot helpful, _et_ whenever you need to talk about it, I'm here."

"...You're not fragile, Francis." Arthur eventually muttered.

"_Et_ you're not a mistake."

Arthur broke. He turned and hurled himself into Francis's arms, hugging the other man tightly and sobbing quietly into his shirt. "I'm- I'm sorry for snapping at you." he managed to get out.

Francis kissed the top of Arthur's head. "_Mon Dieu_, Arthur, it's all right." He gently rubbed his back and he kept hugging him, a flash of thunder crashing outside.

Surprised by the thunder, Arthur flinched closer to him. His fingers tangled into Francis's shirt and he breathed in deeply.

"Arthur, maybe we should go rest." Francis whispered softly.

"Where?" Arthur lifted his head so he could look Francis in the eye. He quickly turned his face away for a moment so he could rub away a tear from his cheek with his shoulder.

"Maybe lay down or something? Would you mind my bed? I don't have any other lounging chairs here."

"No, the bed is fine." Arthur shakily crawled off him, his shoulders still trembling a bit.

Francis stood up and gently wrapped and arm around his waist. "Come on, we'll go fast."

Arthur was surprised by the arm, but he leaned into him a little more and nodded.

Francis led him up to his bed, gently waving a hand at it as he closed the door. "Go on."

Arthur stepped away from him and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as he waited for Francis to join him.

Francis made sure the door and window were closed before going over to join him, gently pulling him into a hug before falling onto the mattress.

"W-Ah!" Arthur fell with him and they landed on their sides, facing each other with their arms around each other as well. "...Francis?"

"Hmm?"

"When...when you said I was loved, who did you mean by?" Arthur asked softly, hesitantly.

Francis hesitated. "Mmm...God...your _mama_, your friends _et_ magical unicorn." He smiled. "_Et_ me."

"You?" Arthur breathed.

"Mhm." Francis smiled gently.

Arthur moved a bit closer to him, his eyes darting from Francis's eyes to his lips and back. "Really? You...you love me?"

Francis pulled him closer so he could gently hug him. "_Oui_, of course."

As Francis was bringing him closer, Arthur quickly tilted his head up and planted a small kiss on Francis's lips. Now he dipped back down and nestled his head in the crook between the Frenchman's neck and shoulder as he was hugged. He waited, though, for rejection from that kiss, for Francis to shove him away and demand that he leave. He tensed and prepared to move away.

Francis froze a bit in surprise, but it didn't take long for him to smile and softly nuzzle against Arthur's hair.

Arthur slowly relaxed when he wasn't pushed away, but as the moments of silence dragged on, he grew unnerved again. "Say something." he finally pleaded.

"That was a sweet kiss." Francis whispered.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Would you like another...love?" He hesitated with the pet name, but decided to take a chance and use it anyway.

Francis gently pulled back, a little grin tugging at his lips. "_Oui_, of course."

Arthur rolled them over so he was resting on top of Francis before dipping down to kiss him once more. The Frenchman eagerly kissed back, tilting his head a bit into the it as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck. Arthur's mouth opened slightly wider and he lightly tugged at Francis's lower lip with his teeth.

Francis gasped and gently opened his mouth for him, with a soft moan at the tug. Arthur's tongue plunged in and probed at Francis's tongue before running over the other's teeth and insides of his cheeks. He tasted so good. He explored thoroughly, snatching small breaths through his nose whenever he got the chance so he wouldn't have to break the kiss. His hands moved up to cup Francis's face between them, lightly tracing the patterns of his cheekbones.

The Frenchman started to bother Arthur after a moment, twirling his tongue along with Arthur's. He lowered his arms to gently trail down Arthur's sides, before edging Arthur's tongue back into his own mouth. Arthur's tongue retreated and then settled down, allowing Francis open access to his mouth. Francis grinned and took a moment to rest, taking a breath before going into Arthur's mouth, immediately probing at the other's tongue before he started to run over the rest of his mouth.

Arthur's tongue flicked against Francis's lightly once or twice, but otherwise he let the Frenchman do as he pleased. His hands moved up to twine into Francis's hair. On the side, he marveled at the soft, silky texture of the blond locks and eagerly continued combing through them with his fingers.

Francis finally broke away. He leaned his head back and breathed softly. "_Mon Dieu_." He closed his eyes and smiled, leaning into Arthur's hand.

"Hmm?" Arthur continued going through his hair, smiling as well.

"You like my hair, hmm?"

"It's very soft and smooth." Francis's hands were still on his sides, and Arthur shivered slightly when the Frenchman's thumb brushed against the scar. He closed his eyes and let out a small breath through his nose.

Francis frowned and reached up to gently brush against the scar again.

The area around the scar mottled with goosebumps as Arthur curled closer to him.

Francis hummed quietly as he pressed a tiny bit harder at the very end of the scar.

"A-Ah..." Arthur's breath fluttered out of his chest as he squirmed away from the feeling.

"Arthur, _Mon Dieu_, you like that?" Francis smirked a bit, breathing into Arthur's ear.

"It still hurts a bit if you press hard, but yes. No one else has touched it." Arthur replied lowly.

Francis kissed the end of Arthur's jaw, running his hands down the scar once more.

Arthur let out a quiet moan, peppering Francis's neck with kisses as his spine arched under the hand stroking it. Francis sighed breathily to mask his own moan a little bit as he tilted his head for Arthur's comfort. The more neck was exposed, the more Arthur kissed it. He covered every inch with kisses, searching for Francis's sweet spot.

Francis enjoyed it for a majority of the time, until he suddenly froze up and bit his lip, starting to squirm beneath the smaller blond.

Arthur tightened his legs around Francis's sides to keep him in place. Then he grinned and bit down on the spot, sucking and licking at the skin until he had left a noticeable hickey.

"Arth- _ah_." Francis bit his lip harshly, still moaning softly through it, and still trying to gently shift underneath him.

Arthur licked the spot once more and lifted his head away so he was hanging over Francis, their noses almost touching. He stared deep into the azure depths.

Francis breathed and smiled gently at him. "_Et_ how am I supposed to cover that up?"

"A high collar?" Arthur suggested as he dipped down briefly to kiss his nose. "_Je_..." He bit his lip as he briefly struggled to recall the correct phrase. "_Je t'aime_..." he said slowly, his pronunciation off a bit.

Francis laughed softly, taking hold of the back of Arthur's head to pull him down and peck him on the lips. "_Je t'aime aussi_, Arthur!" he giggled softly.

Arthur smiled. He'd read the phrase in one of his fairy tales as a child. His mother had translated it for him, and it had always stuck in the back of his mind. He rolled off Francis and curled up close to his side.

Francis turned and hugged him close to himself, gently curling around him.

Arthur stifled a soft yawn and nuzzled to him, sighing contently. He felt...safe and warm, and happy there in Francis's arms. He maneuvered his hand around until he was holding Francis's, and he squeezed it lightly.

Francis gently squeezed back, leaning away to grab the covers and pull them over the two of them. "You should sleep."

"Don't leave..." Arthur murmured, and seconds later he was fast asleep.

"I would never." Francis kissed his forehead before waiting for Arthur to fall asleep. Once he was, the Frenchman smiled and relaxed, falling asleep himself.

The next morning when they woke, Francis made some more _crêpes_ for them to eat before they headed out to town. They were as good as, if not better, than the previous night's ones to Arthur, and he cleaned out the plate eagerly once more. His shirt was finally dry so he donned it and his cloak before they left.

He showed Francis the book store he liked and they spent a good two hours there, either browsing the books or talking, or curled up together in some corner with one of them reading a story to the other. Once they left the store, most of the time they just walked around, holding hands and occasionally kissing.

As the day wore on, Arthur found himself falling more and more in love. Francis was just so bright and cheerful, and Arthur was attracted to that after living in a dark place for so long. The shorter blond would often stare at him and the way he moved for long periods of time. Francis caught him occasionally, and they would smile at each other, Francis warmly out of amusement and Arthur sheepishly from slight embarrassment.

That evening was spent similar to the previous, with kissing and cuddling and whispered sweet words before they fell asleep curled up together.

* * *

"Francis..." Arthur asked at one point when they were walking down the street the day after that. "When will you have to return to your home?"

Francis sighed. "By the end of the week, but it doesn't have to be for long."

Arthur nodded. "Would you mind if I stayed at your house while you were gone?"

Francis shook his head. "_Non_, you can go right ahead."

"Thank you..." Arthur suddenly trailed off and spun them around, swinging himself around at the same time so he was in front of Francis, facing him. A second later he let out a soft grunt and stumbled forward half a step. "Francis. Run." Behind him stood none other than Alastair Kirkland with a group of guards. Arthur shoved Francis ahead of him and they ran, Arthur always making sure to stay behind him.

"_Arthur_!" Francis grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled up so they could run alongside each other. "Don't do that!"

Arthur nodded but made sure that Francis was still a bit ahead. They ran for a few minutes until they reached a dead end. The wall blocking their path wasn't too high, and there were a few crates stacked against it that could be used as steps. Arthur pushed Francis ahead of him. "You first, go! Don't even try arguing, just go!"

"_Stop_ Arthur, he won't do anything to me here, he can't, come on!" Francis pushed Arthur forward instead.

Arthur stumbled forward, just barely catching himself on the wall. His back was finally turned to the Frenchman, exposing the arrow lodged in it and the blood dripping from his shirt.

Francis smacked a hand over his mouth and rushed to him, tears in his eyes. "_Non, non, non,_, Arthur?!"

"Idiot...I told you to go first..." Arthur snapped weakly.

"_Mon Dieu, non_." Francis had tears coming down his cheeks and he gently hugged Arthur to himself. "Don't die, Arthur, don't _e-et_ we'll get a doctor-"

"Drop him, Frenchy." Alastair's voice lashed out from the entrance of the alley.

When he heard it, Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed away from Francis, going to stand between him and Alastair. His legs trembled, but he didn't allow himself to falter. "What do you want?"

"Why, to bring you home, of course. We all miss you." Alastair said mockingly. "It's your own fault for taking the arrow meant for him." The redhead gestured dismissively at Francis.

"Francis..." Arthur said quietly. "I love you, but go. Run. Get out of here. Don't argue, just go."

"_Non_, I'm not leaving you."

"Francis, just _run_!" Arthur turned and pushed him toward the crates. "I won't die, not yet. But you have to go before they get it into their heads to loose another arrow." he said urgently.

"Arthur-"

"GO!" Arthur screamed at him. "Go now, and come find me later. I love you." He gave Francis one last push before turning back to his brother and starting to walk towards him. "I'll come with you, but you don't _touch_ him, understand?"

Alastair smirked. "Aye." He grabbed Arthur's arm as soon as the blond walked into reach and dragged him close. "But before we go, let me thank him. He gave us a reason for your execution, after all." he said loudly, smiling at Francis.

Francis growled, gritting his teeth and pulling his sword out of its sheath, his belt tugging a bit at the motion. "You just try."

Alastair snorted. "I see you've manned up since the last time we met. What are you trying to protect this scum for?" He jerked Arthur by the arm, and the blond let out a weak moan, stumbling to his knees. The blood loss and pain were catching up to him.

"Last time we met I was _ten_." Francis growled, but he froze when Arthur was dragged over. "Don't touch him like that."

Alastair cocked his head. "Makes no difference how I touch him, he'll be dead soon. And so will you if you don't take his advice and run like a good little Frenchman."

"No..." Arthur struggled to lift his head. "You said-"

"Belt up, bastard." Alastair tightened his grip until Arthur winced. "What'll it be, then?"

Francis raised the sword so the tip was level with Alastair's eyes. "_Va te fair foutre, Écosse_."

Alastair smiled thinly and tossed Arthur aside. The blond hit the ground and didn't move. "All right then." He drew his own sword and advanced on Francis.

Francis swallowed, cursing to himself. He should have practiced more sword fighting rather than just fencing. He slid a leg back and lowered his sword a little bit, waiting for Alastair to attack first. "Just leave."

"Too late for that."

"Last warning."

Alastair scoffed and attacked.

At first Francis stumbled, but after a minute he got the hand of it, starting to pull out of defence and start attacking. "How _dare_ you hurt your own brother?!"

Alastair's gaze was emotionless. "That thing is not my brother." He easily held off against the other.

Francis clenched his jaw. "Bastard." He moved to the right but swung the sword the other way, hoping it hit Alastair in the side. The blade glittered in the noontide sunlight.

Caught off guard by the sudden change in direction, the blade actually nicked Alastair's skin enough to draw some blood, but he managed to parry it before it did any fatal damage. The redhead immediately countered with an overhand swing at Francis's shoulder.

Francis spun out of the way and started to attack fiercely, slamming his sword against Alastair's as hard as he could, before swinging it to his other side, and then his feet. It wasn't particularly elegant swordplay, but at the moment the Frenchman was going more for effectiveness than style.

Alastair blocked each blow. "Pity the weak bastard couldn't stay awake to see you die."

Francis growled deep in his throat again. "Pity he couldn't see you fighting so badly."

Almost immediately after Francis said this, Alastair delivered a lightning-fast strike up high, slicing open Francis's cheek. "Did you say something?"

Francis cursed but caught his footing, gritting his teeth and swinging his sword right back in an S shape, to slash back twice. "_Tais-toi_."

Alastair blocked those blows again. However, Francis kept on fighting furiously, spurred on by anger and fear of losing Arthur. Eventually Alastair had to move from offense to defense, and that's when the blows started to land on his body. His ribs, stomach, arms and legs all received slashes and cuts, and after a few minutes his clothes were stained crimson with his lifeblood. But he kept fighting, though finally he collapsed on the ground from the sheer number of injuries he'd received.

Francis was breathing hard, thanking the Lord he'd managed to hit Alastair enough times. He didn't give the redhead time to rest before he slammed a boot down right on his collarbone.

Alastair screamed out as the bones broke, but he wouldn't beg for mercy. Not of a Frenchman. "Heh...ye got better after all..." he breathed out, and then his eyes dimmed and his breath stopped.

When he was dead, the rest of the guards turned and fled.

Francis's breath still came in short pants, but he had to look away and grit his teeth harshly, both when Alastair was talking and when he wasn't. He waited a moment before gently taking his boot off, almost feeling the bones underneath rise up a bit, no longer being pressed down underneath something. He stumbled back a bit, dropping his sword and staring at Alastair in surprise. He shouldn't have killed him, he... He had to worry about Arthur first.

"Arthur?!"

Arthur was lying on his stomach in the dirt, still not moving. The arrow shaft sticking up from his back was now broken, but it was still lodged in. Arthur's breathing was shallow and his pulse was faint, but he was still alive.

"Arthur?" Francis gently turned him over, to hopefully see his face without simultaneously pushing the arrow further into his back. "Please wake up, Arthur?"

There was a trickle of blood on the corner of Arthur's lips. At the movement, his eyebrows furrowed a bit from pain, but other than that he didn't stir. Francis swallowed and looked around for a moment, before putting his arms underneath Arthur and carefully hoisting him up. Arthur's breath shuddered in his chest and then evened out once more.

Francis took that as a sign that he was holding him all right, and he gently kissed the top of Arthur's forehead, murmuring a soft apology before rushing off to find a doctor.

* * *

Arthur's eyes fluttered open much later- days or hours, he didn't know. The room swam into view. It looked like Francis's bedroom. Did heaven look like that? But no, there was pain radiating from his back, which was bandaged. The white strips curled around his chest and sides, a few of them even going over his left shoulder in a sort of strap. He was shirtless, but under the covers. He coughed weakly and then gasped in pain, his eyes automatically screwing shut once more.

"Arthur?" Francis had knelt down at the side of the bed in a flash at the sound of the gasp. He had been sleeping in a chair in a corner, but had awakened. "Arthur, are you awake?"

"Fran...cis?" Arthur's eyes opened again, and he smiled weakly. "You're...alive..."

Francis pressed his lips together, putting a hand on Arthur's cheek. "_Mon Dieu, you're_ alive."

Arthur leaned into it slightly, as much as he could manage without too much pain. "And... And Alastair?"

"...Ah..." Francis glanced up, hoping that would explain it.

Arthur swallowed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "He got what he deserved. How long have I been out for?"

"Two days, _cher_."

"T-Two days?!" Arthur's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, you must have been so worried..." He weakly raised his hand and for an instant he cupped Francis's cheek, but then his arm weakened and dropped back to the sheets.

"_Non, non, _don't." Francis gently kept Arthur's arm down. "Rest, Arthur, _s'il vous plaît_."

"I am...resting." Arthur moved his arm so that he was holding hands with Francis.

Francis smiled softly, tears leaking from his eyes. "_Oui...o-oui_, you are..."

"Hey, no, don't cry. I'm all right, Francis." Arthur gritted his teeth and raised his hand again, managing to wipe away some of the tears before it fell back once more. "Please don't cry..."

Francis kissed Arthur's cheek. "I thought you were dead, _Mon Dieu_."

"It's hard to kill me, remember?" Arthur shakily pointed to his throat and side. "And besides, I had to save you."

"_Non, non_, don't say that, shh. _Non_, never again."

"I will always save you." Arthur promised. "Your light is too bright to be extinguished."

Francis smiled softly again, but he shook a bit. "_Non_, don't say that."

"It is true..."

Francis smiled a bit brighter. "_Merci_." he muttered, laying his head against Arthur's chest and gently gripping his shirt.

Arthur smiled happily, a few tears of his own dampening his cheeks. It was much easier to raise his hand in this position, so he did and ran it through Francis's hair.

"Don't do that again."

"Do what?"

"Try and protect me, Arthur."

"I know you can take care of yourself, but I can't lose you. Or let you die if I can do anything to prevent it."

"_Non_, Arthur, promise."

"I can't do that." Arthur said quietly.

"Please."

Arthur's fingers tangled into the Frenchman's hair. "I can't. I can't let you die, I refuse to." The number of tears increased and spilled over onto his bandages.

"_S'il vous plaît,_ Arthur, _s-s'il vous plaît_." Francis shook slightly, nonetheless trying to keep a strong grip on Arthur's hand.

Arthur closed his eyes. "I...I promise." Bastards always broke promises though, or so the saying went. In this case, Arthur didn't have a problem with that. He lightly dragged his thumb over Francis's knuckle, trying to comfort him in some way.

Francis looked up a bit and smiled, leaning up to kiss Arthur's drying tears.

Arthur let out a very soft moan and smiled. He blinked rapidly a few times. "Are you still going to go home soon?"

"_Non_."

"But you're a prince... Don't you have duties to do? Lessons?"

"_Non_, I don't care."

"Francis, you will be a king one day. You have to go."

"_Non_, I'm not."

"You're not what?"

"Going. Just rest, Arthur."

Arthur sighed- they could argue later. "Will you stay with me?"

Francis nodded right away.

Arthur smiled softly and tugged on his arm a bit, wanting him to lie down next to him. Francis smiled as well and climbed into the bed, immediately slinging an arm across Arthur, careful of his bandages, and gently holding him closer. The smaller blond held his breath and winced while he was moved, but then relaxed and nuzzled against him.

Francis curled around him. "..._Je t'aime._"

"_Je t'aime_..." Arthur repeated softly, his eyes closing moments later.

"Good night..." Francis whispered softly, kissing Arthur's forehead.

It was Arthur's stomach growling that woke him the next morning. He hadn't eaten in days, and his body made that little fact painfully obvious.

Francis stirred immediately, with a soft smile. "I'll get you something, _cher_." he whispered.

"_Crêpes_?" Arthur asked hopefully.

Francis chuckled. "Are you sure?"

"Well anything would be good, but _crêpes_ if possible."

Francis nodded, kissing the top of his head. "Wait patiently, _oui_?"

Arthur nodded. When Francis was gone though, he slowly, painfully started to sit up. He went practically inch by inch and it took him a few minutes, but eventually he was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, with his feet hanging off. He propped himself up on his hands as he caught his breath.

Francis returned a few minutes later with a plate of hot _crêpes_. He nearly dropped it when he saw him. "_Non_- Arthur!"

Arthur smiled at him. "I am waiting patiently, I didn't go anywhere."

"_Arthur_." Francis hurried over, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and gently pushing him back. "Lay back Arthur, you must rest."

Arthur tried resisting him, but in the end just flopped down onto the bed. "I've been resting for the past two days, apparently. That's enough."

"_Non_, it isn't." He placed the _crêpes_ on the side table, crossing his arm. "_Et_ what now?"

"What now?"

"How will you get your food, hmm?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'll get up." He started rising again.

"_Non_." Francis gently helped him sit up against the headboard of the bed, before handing him the plate.

Arthur quickly shoved a pillow between his back and the headboard before leaning against it. He then turned his attention to the plate, whose contents were gone in under two minutes. He closed his eyes and smiled happily as he pushed the plate away.

"..._Mon Dieu_, would you want more?"

"Perhaps later..." Arthur lightly patted the spot on the mattress next to him.

Francis sat down next to him, putting a hand on Arthur's knee. "Hmm?"

Arthur placed his hand on top of Francis's. "I just want you close..." he said quietly. "They might come after me again..."

Francis smiled softly. "_Non_, they won't."

Arthur frowned at him. "What? How do you know?"

"Yesterday...I overheard, they think Alastair killed you."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Really?" So he was technically dead... He was surprisingly comfortable with that.

Francis smiled and nodded. "They don't even know who killed him."

"...So they know Alastair's dead?"

Francis nodded softly. "_Oui_...but it's a border town, so no one can interfere, not yet at least...I had to dispose of my sword."

All of a sudden, Arthur sniffed and buried his head in Francis's shoulder, a few fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. He was smiling though.

"Arthur?"

"I...I don't have to go back anymore." He laughed quietly. "I'm finally free..." Arthur pulled away and composed himself, quickly wiping his cheeks dry. The smile refused to leave his face. "Thank you, Francis." He bowed his head a little bit, the very picture of respect and gratitude.

Francis's eyebrows knit together. "Arthur..."

"Yes?"

He smiled and leaned over to kiss Arthur on the lips.

Arthur responded immediately, leaning forward and kissing back. He maneuvered them so he was laying flat- to take some of the stress off his back- and Francis was on top of him.

Francis gently pulled away for a moment, lying on Arthur's side. "...How do you feel?"

"Mmm, much better." Arthur smiled, but then it faded. "What am I going to do now? I have no home, no title..." His brows furrowed as he fretted.

"You have me?"

Arthur sighed. "I don't want to be living off you all the time."

Francis smiled. "You won't, _Mon Dieu_, we'll do it together."

"But you're royalty- you have duties, and-"

"_Non_, Arthur." He gently nuzzled to Arthur's cheek. "I don't care."

"You-" Arthur nuzzled him back. "You're...incredible. Would we stay here?"

Francis smiled and kissed his cheek. "Whatever you'd like, _cher_."

"I like it here." Arthur said softly. "It feels like...home."

* * *

**A/N**: The territories mentioned would be Scotland, Wales, and North Ireland.

Va te fair foutre, Écosse- Fuck you, Scot.


End file.
